


send nudes

by valda



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Humor, Love Bites, M/M, Marking, Meet-Cute, NSFW Art, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26915371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valda/pseuds/valda
Summary: A fateful meeting and a late-night text lead to more than either Kylo Ren or Armitage Hux expected.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 28
Kudos: 136





	send nudes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FruHallbera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FruHallbera/gifts).



> Inspired by [an amazing joke Fru made on Twitter](https://twitter.com/FHallbera/status/1292052697080897538).

It was sometime around 11 in the morning on a Thursday when Kylo Ren was ripped from desperately needed sleep by a loud pounding on the front door of his studio apartment.

He groaned, slapped at the night table to find his phone, checked the time, and buried his face in his pillow. Nobody was supposed to be coming over, especially not during Kylo’s sleeping hours. His latest shift at Supremacy had only ended three hours ago, when the owner, Jim Snoke, finally let everyone who hadn’t been arrested in last night’s brawl-turned-police-raid go home. It had taken a while for the adrenaline to wear off, and even longer for him to actually get to sleep.

There was no way in hell he was getting out of bed. Whoever was at the door could just go away.

But they didn’t, and the knocking didn’t stop. Thud, thud, thud, over and over and over, a rhythmic staccato drilling its way into Kylo’s skull. It wasn’t long before Kylo’s temples were throbbing in time with the beat.

Filled with exhausted outrage—or perhaps outraged exhaustion—he raised his head and glared at the door. “ _What_?”

“Package for Kylo Ren!” came a crisp voice with an English accent. Somehow, whoever it was managed to sound overly cheerful and incredibly nervous all at once.

Kylo groaned again. This was _not_ worth being woken up over. “Just leave it by the door!” he yelled.

“I can’t!” the delivery person said. “You have to sign!”

Kylo wasn’t expecting a package. He couldn’t even remember the last thing he’d ordered, it’d been so long. He had no idea what this could possibly be—other than a monumental annoyance.

Maybe if he ignored this situation, it would go away. Kylo slumped back down in bed, curled up on his side, and pulled the blanket over his head.

After a moment of silence, the knocking started again.

Kylo jerked upright, sending the bedclothes flying. “Just leave one of those notes, you asshole!” he shouted.

“I don’t—I can’t—” All cheer was gone from the sleep-destroyer’s voice, leaving behind only trepidation and fear. “Please just open the door, sir!”

“Fuck off!”

“ _I can’t_! I’d be _fired_!” And the knocking resumed, frantic this time.

Kylo closed his eyes and ground his fingertips into his temples. The old him would barrel over there, fling open the door, and punch this idiot in the face, but he was doing a lot better controlling his anger lately, and he wasn’t particularly keen on the idea of another assault charge, especially after so recently avoiding one. “Fine. Hang on,” he snarled, kicking his bare feet free of the covers and practically falling out of the bed. He lurched across the room, slapped half-heartedly at the locks until they disengaged, and swung the front door open.

A mousy, terrified-looking person in a tailored three-piece suit was standing there. Their black hair was swept back and gelled into a severe, serious style. Kylo wasn’t sure, but he thought they were wearing eyeliner; at any rate, their dark brown eyes stood out. They had classically beautiful facial features, which was irritating; Kylo also had black hair and brown eyes, but his face was nothing like this person’s, with its near-perfect symmetry. Their fingernails were perfectly manicured as well, which Kylo noticed as an old-school clipboard and ink pen were extended toward him.

Kylo blinked at the clipboard, scratching his ass through his flimsy boxers, and let his tired brain catch up with the situation. “Where’s the package?”

“It’s right here, sir,” the delivery mouse said, gesturing to the side.

Kylo leaned out the door to see a tall, wide, but not particularly deep package leaning against the stucco wall of the apartment building. “What the fuck,” he murmured, not having expected something quite this large. “Too tall to be a TV, I guess, unless you set it on its side, in which case it’s totally busted now. Furniture?”

“It’s not a television, and it’s not furniture,” the delivery mouse said. “You should be expecting it. Please sign and take possession.”

Baffled, Kylo grabbed the side of the package with both hands and hefted it to gauge its weight. It surprised him by lifting easily off the ground. “Huh.” He shouldered past the delivery mouse, stepping completely out of his apartment, and picked up the package across its width, crab-walking it inside.

“Please, sir,” came a plaintive voice behind him. “The paperwork.”

Kylo was tempted to just slam the door in the delivery mouse’s face and crawl back into bed, but the package was unmarked, and at this point he was actually a little curious. He turned back around and grabbed the clipboard, scanning the document clipped to it. “‘I, Kylo Ren, do hereby accept the requested depiction,’” he read aloud. “‘I vow to treat it with the respect it is due for the rest of my days, and to render it back unto the estate of Armitage Hux upon my death, or at such time as Mr. Hux demands its return.’ Armitage Hux? Who the hell is that?”

The delivery mouse gasped audibly, face turning a sickly hue. “Um.” They fidgeted a bit. “Mr. Hux has asked that I return with your favorable reaction.”

Kylo frowned. “Yeah, uh, sure, tell him thanks, I guess?” There weren’t any weird conditions on the odd document; he took up the pen and scrawled out his name, so the delivery mouse could be on their way.

“No, I mean…” The delivery mouse took a deep breath. “May I stay until you have written your response, so I might take it back to him?”

“Until I’ve _written my response_?” Kylo repeated. “You mean he wants me to open this right now and then write him a letter about it while you wait?”

“Yes,” the delivery mouse said, sounding relieved. “That’s it exactly.”

This was getting ridiculous. “Look,” Kylo said. “I am totally wiped. I haven’t had a full eight hours of sleep in three days. I should be asleep _right now._ Can’t you just come back later for my ‘written response’?”

“Mr. Hux was explicit,” the delivery mouse said miserably. “I’m not to return without it.”

Kylo shook his head. Whoever Armitage Hux was, he sure was demanding. Maybe he was someone important, since this kid seemed so afraid of him. “Fine,” Kylo said, “but he’d better not be expecting poetry.”

~

Three months before the fateful day he would send his assistant to Kylo Ren’s apartment, Armitage Hux would never have imagined being interested in, of all people, the head bouncer at Supremacy. He wasn’t interested in Supremacy itself at all. The club was rowdy, dirty, dangerous—nothing like the elegant establishment Armitage was planning. Jim Snoke may have given Armitage his flagship venue, Finalizer, but Starkiller was Armitage’s own work, his masterwork. With it, Armitage would go on to bigger and better things. He would either leave First Order Holdings to start his own hospitality venture...or, ideally, he would oust Snoke and take all of First Order for himself, remaking it as he saw fit.

He was having a pleasant think about these plans over his usual after-dinner cup of bitter tea, nearly ready to head home for the evening, when a man he’d never seen before exploded through the sleek front entrance of Finalizer and barreled past the host station as though it wasn’t even there.

Of course, many people who were strangers to Armitage patronized the restaurant. But Armitage knew for sure he had never seen this man before in his life. If he had, he would have remembered. Tall, perhaps even taller than Armitage’s considerable height; broad-shouldered and muscular with a powerful torso and thick thighs; raven-haired with cherry-red lips. He was absolutely gorgeous.

The man stopped near the breezeway that led to the banquet hall and pulled out a tablet, tapping into it as he scanned the main dining room. His hands were so large they made the tablet look like a cell phone. It wasn’t hard for Armitage to imagine those hands squeezing his waist, palming his arse, curling around his thighs…

But he was getting ahead of himself.

Armitage shifted his chair a little further from the small table he was occupying and leaned back in his seat, putting the long, lean lines of his body in full view of the exquisite stranger. Then he panned his gaze around the dining hall in a casual, idle way, pausing to linger on the man and letting the corners of his lips turn up slightly, as if he was amused.

The man, sensing that he was being inspected, looked up from his tablet and met Armitage’s eyes. He blinked, and then he let his keen brown eyes roam over Armitage’s carefully arranged body before locking eyes with Armitage again.

Armitage held the man’s gaze for a few seconds. Once he was sure the man knew he’d been thoroughly evaluated, he turned his head away and continued his pretend survey of the dining room. There. That should bring the glorious creature immediately to Armitage’s table.

When he finished feigning interest in the room around him, he examined his fingernails, then straightened his lapels, then took another sip of tea. It finally occurred to him as he set the cup down that too much time had passed; he shouldn’t have been able to do all those things in the brief moment it would take the man to cross the room.

Armitage risked a peek out of the corner of his eye. The man was once again absorbed in his tablet, glancing around every now and then before typing more one-handed notes. He wasn’t even looking in Armitage’s direction.

What did he think he was doing, not being devastated? How dare he?

Armitage crossed his arms indignantly and glared into his teacup. Well. It was the brute’s loss. If he couldn’t appreciate Armitage enough to even make an attempt—

“Hey, babe.”

Armitage jolted in his seat, bumping the small table and causing his cup to clatter in its saucer. He looked up—and up—and there he was, the beautiful beast, standing over him with a smirk on his face.

“Didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long.” The man pulled out the opposite chair, spun it around, and straddled it, leaning close over the table. “Just had some business to attend to. I’m gonna be running this place soon.”

Armitage, who had mostly recovered from his surprise and had been well on his way to a deep, excitement-tinged self-satisfaction, felt his brain crash to a halt. “You—what?” he spluttered, reeling. All thoughts—well, most thoughts—of bedding this man fled his mind.

“Yeah, the owner’s handing it off to me,” the man said. “Well, and a partner, but I’ll be the one who’s really in charge.” He winked.

Snoke had said something about bringing in another owner. Not an investor, but someone with ‘vision’. A protege—as if he didn’t already have one in Armitage.

Snoke had never truly appreciated Armitage, which was one of the reasons Armitage was eager to get rid of him.

In any case, Armitage had assumed he would serve as mentor to this supposedly visionary person, guiding them in their decisions, helping them understand the intricacies of the food and hospitality industries. But apparently not. Apparently this man had been told he was Armitage’s equal. With no experience, and nothing to invest.

“I don’t have time to stick around, unfortunately,” the man was saying. He reached across the table and laid his massive palm against Armitage’s cheek.

All the lovely things Armitage had thought about the man’s hands earlier came flooding back to the forefront of his mind, pushing everything else out again. He trembled a little.

“But you sure are pretty,” the man continued. “How about we trade numbers?” The man’s big, thick thumb brushed lightly against the corner of Armitage’s mouth.

Before he quite registered what he was doing, Armitage unlocked his phone and tapped into his contacts. He took a breath to ask for the man’s number, wildly imagining the man taking the opportunity to push his thumb between Armitage’s parted lips—but instead the man pulled his hand away from Armitage's face, plucked the phone right out of Armitage’s hands, and started entering the number himself.

Dazedly, Armitage touched his cheek. It felt strangely cold where the man’s hand had been. His mind felt strange, too, like it wasn’t quite working right. Wasn’t he upset? He was, wasn’t he? He was pretty sure he should be.

The man slid Armitage’s phone back across the table, still unlocked. There was now a new contact, under the name ‘Kylo Ren’.

“Now,” Kylo said softly, “send me a text so I’ll have your number.”

Armitage’s pulse was suddenly racing. What could he possibly text to encapsulate this moment, to make Kylo think about him for the rest of the night? Because that’s what should happen. Armitage should have the upper hand in this situation, as in any other.

He stared at the flashing cursor for far too long. Nothing was coming to him. The man’s lopsided smile was making it hard to think. Armitage took a deep breath and hurriedly typed the first thing he could come up with: _A text, as requested._

The message came up on the lockscreen of Kylo’s tablet; he glanced at it and grinned. “Thanks, baby. I gotta go now, but let’s talk soon.” He rose from the chair, reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind Armitage’s ear, and strode out of Finalizer without looking back.

~

Three months before a mousy guy named Dopheld Mitaka showed up at his door with an enormous painting, Kylo went to check out Finalizer, the restaurant he would soon own. Well, co-own; there was apparently some other guy who already had a stake in the place. Kylo wore his nicest outfit and walked in like he already owned it, surveying the elegant, modern establishment and taking notes on his tablet so he’d have an idea of what he wanted to change when he was in charge.

Like Supremacy, Finalizer was one of the many businesses owned by Jim Snoke. Mr. Snoke had finally decided to give Kylo a chance at something real in his company, something beyond security work. Kylo liked his job, especially since he got to work with his friends, but it didn’t pay nearly as much as he’d like. Besides, he wasn’t sure Mr. Snoke would have use for him much longer if he didn’t show a little ambition. So when the opportunity to make a real difference came up, Kylo jumped at it.

Kylo had known Mr. Snoke ever since he was a child. A chance encounter and random conversation at one of Kylo’s mother’s parties had led to a lifelong friendship. It had been refreshing to have someone to talk to about the pressures Kylo’s wealthy and influential family was always putting on him, to feel like he could actually have a say about his own life. In the time since, Mr. Snoke had taken Kylo under his wing, helping Kylo to become his own man. Thanks to Mr. Snoke, Kylo had been able to change his name and distance himself from his unreasonable, demanding family.

Mr. Snoke wasn’t a philanthropist. He didn’t give people what they didn’t earn. Kylo respected him for that, and he did his best to deserve Mr. Snoke’s favor. In this case, that meant doing more for Mr. Snoke’s business. He was determined to make Finalizer succeed.

Despite his noble intentions, however, Kylo completely forgot what he was doing at Finalizer a scant few minutes in. Feeling as though he was being watched, he looked up from his tablet—and there, sitting alone at a table for two, was the hottest man he’d ever seen.

Red hair, sharp green eyes, pink lips, severe cheekbones, and a long, slim body that Kylo couldn’t help but check out...Kylo hadn’t thought he had a type, but if he did, this guy was it. He’d never been so instantly attracted to anyone in his entire life.

Even better, the man was gazing directly, unmistakably, at Kylo.

For a long moment, all they did was stare at each other. It was like they were under a spell; Kylo didn’t even dare to blink.

Then, abruptly, the redhead turned away, breaking their eye contact so casually Kylo was briefly unsure it had actually happened.

It had, though. There was no way he had imagined that guy checking him out.

Kylo smiled to himself and turned back to his tablet. He could play games, too. He’d go over there, all right. But first he’d finish taking a look around the restaurant. Let the guy stew a little.

~

Kylo obviously knew who Armitage was. Obviously. This was all a ploy to disarm him, to gain the advantage.

This conclusion swirled round and round in Armitage’s mind as he lay awake in bed the night of their encounter at Finalizer, trying and failing to get to sleep. He couldn’t shake the memory of Kylo’s hand alongside his face, of Kylo’s big fingers brushing gently at his hair. He wanted more of that. He wanted—

He wanted to take control of First Order Holdings. That was what he wanted. If he could use Kylo Ren to do so, he would. If he happened to enjoy himself, all the better.

He’d done well to get Kylo’s number. It was smart. After all, this was Snoke’s protege. Armitage should learn whatever he could about him.

Armitage should learn everything.

It was three in the morning and Armitage was still wide awake when his text message alert went off. Everyone knew not to contact him at night unless it was urgent, so Armitage quickly retrieved his phone from the nightstand and unlocked it to see the message.

His heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t from Dopheld, or Snoke, or his lawyer, or anyone at Finalizer.

It was from Kylo Ren.

A text on the same night they met was rather a good sign. This particular text was an even better one.

Armitage read and reread the two-word message, not quite believing it was real. It was a bold request; in fact, it should probably offend him. But Armitage found that he was tempted to do as Kylo asked. The thought of it was already making warmth curl low in his belly; his skin was tingling so much he shivered. He licked his lips and opened his photo gallery, navigating to the hidden files.

Then he stopped. This wasn’t something one did on a whim. He needed to spend some time on this, make sure he had a plan.

Kylo wanted something from him. That meant Armitage had the upper hand. He would use it to his advantage.

Armitage locked his phone and set it aside. A smile on his lips, he finally fell asleep.

~

The delivery mouse turned out to be Dopheld Mitaka, a recent graduate of England’s Oxford University. That was a pretty big deal. He was in America serving as Armitage Hux’s—

“Butler?” Kylo guessed as he dug through the kitchenette’s junk drawer for his knife. Since he apparently wasn’t going back to bed anytime soon, he’d thrown on a shirt and a pair of jeans after inviting Mitaka in. This, along with an invitation to have a seat on Kylo’s dingy couch, had seemed to put the kid a bit more at ease.

“Personal assistant,” Mitaka corrected him, crossing his legs and weaving his fingers together comfortably over his knee. “A butler is—”

“Never mind.” Kylo didn’t really care, and anyway he’d located the knife. He took the three steps from the kitchenette back over to where he’d left the package by the door, made short work of the tape on one end of the box, and started peeling the flaps open.

“Wait,” Mitaka said suddenly, scrambling to his feet. “I’m not to see the contents. The depiction is for your eyes only.”

“God,” Kylo said. “This guy is a piece of work.”

Mitaka let out a single nervous laugh, then actually scuffed the toe of his expensive dress shoe against Kylo’s threadbare carpet.

“Can you just close your eyes?” Kylo asked.

“No,” Mitaka said unhappily, eyes cutting away. “I would be too tempted to look.”

That was a truly bizarre pronouncement, but Kylo didn’t feel like pressing the issue. “Okay, whatever.” He glanced around the open floor plan of the small studio. There really wasn’t anywhere private except the closet-sized bathroom. “You can go in there I guess,” he said, waving at it.

Mitaka immediately scurried over, slipped inside, and shut the door. Kylo spared a brief thought for the room’s cleanliness—had he scrubbed the toilet? Ever?—but then he shook the distraction away. It was time to see what was in the package.

With the end of the box open, he could now see that cardboard corner blocks at the top and bottom had been used to brace an object that was tall and wide, but only about an inch and a half thick. It was wrapped in plastic, but based on the shape and weight, Kylo was pretty sure it was some sort of wall art. And now he was truly confused—he liked art, and he did own a few pieces his friends had painted, but he’d never owned any work that was this big. And the paperwork said this had been ‘requested’.

Kylo angled the box away from the kitchenette so that there would be room to get the canvas out without scraping it on the linoleum. He hooked his fingers around the frame from the back and carefully began to pull. The piece slid out easily; it had been packed well, as if in a custom box. Setting the box and corner blocks aside, Kylo went around behind the enormous canvas and set to work removing the painter’s tape that held the plastic to the frame. As he unstuck the last piece from the top, the plastic slid down off the front of the painting, leaving it fully revealed. Kylo stepped out from behind it, leaned the frame against the wall, and moved toward the center of the apartment so he could take the full thing in.

He was wholly unprepared for what he saw when he turned around. His eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open and the back of his neck felt suddenly hot. He couldn’t decide where to look; he licked his lips and put his hands on his hips and tried to look at everything.

The brushwork was exquisite, the palette rich, the subject perfectly, beautifully portrayed. Kylo’s entire body felt warmer now, and his breath was coming a little harder, too. As he gazed at what he could only consider a masterpiece, he felt a deep hunger rising inside him—and then he became aware of another, more pressing need. That need grew more and more urgent the longer he looked at the painting; when it became impossible to ignore, Kylo unzipped his jeans and shifted his half-hard cock into a more comfortable position.

“Are you finished?” Mitaka called through the bathroom door. “Can I come out?”

Kylo let out an incredulous half-laugh, half-scoff. Honestly, he would never be finished looking at this work of art. Mitaka should just go, so Kylo could be alone with it.

When Kylo didn’t answer, Mitaka prompted, “Sir?”

Reluctantly, Kylo closed his fly. “Okay, hold on a minute while I cover it up again.”

Well. At least now he knew who Armitage Hux was.

[ ](https://i.imgur.com/o3Pn0df.jpg)

~

It was taking Dopheld far too long to return from his errand. To be fair, transporting the item across town, giving Kylo Armitage’s instructions, and waiting for Kylo to write his response weren’t tasks that could be accomplished quickly. But Armitage wasn’t interested in being fair. He had waited months for this. He was tired of waiting.

Determining the right artist for the job—the best artist available—had taken some time. Negotiating with her had added to that. And then there had been the business of actually getting the commission painted. That undertaking would have taken at least a month regardless due to drying time, but in this case, given the size of the piece, it had taken nearly that long just for her to finish painting.

That morning, as soon as the artist confirmed that the work was completely dry and ready to be transported, Armitage had supervised as it was professionally wrapped and boxed. Then he’d told Dopheld to take it to Kylo immediately. A delivery service couldn’t be trusted with this. Armitage would have taken it himself, but it seemed inappropriate, or at least not in keeping with the original intent. 

After all, Kylo had said “send”, not “bring”.

Armitage had managed to wait in his home office for precisely three hours, but he’d barely gotten any work done, unable to concentrate on anything but what might be happening at Kylo’s apartment. After that he set to pacing the marble-floored foyer of the mansion he’d inherited from his father, checking the Duc d’Orleans Breguet Sympathique clock that was sitting on the Jacobean cabinet along the wall every two seconds or so.

When the locks on the grand, ornately carved double doors of the entryway finally clicked open, it was 2:47pm. Armitage almost tripped in his hurry to meet Dopheld. “Where have you been?” he demanded. “I—”

The words died in his throat. The man pushing his way through the doors was not, in fact, Dopheld Mitaka, but none other than Kylo Ren himself.

“Hey,” Kylo said.

Armitage stood rooted to the spot, staring. Kylo was here. He was here, and he was wearing the tightest black T-shirt Armitage had ever seen. Distantly, Armitage was aware of Dopheld squeaking out some sort of apology from behind the mass of gorgeousness and muscle standing before him, but mostly he was aware of Kylo’s eyes, brown with flecks of gold, as they slid from Armitage’s face down his body and back up again.

He had not been expecting guests. He was working from home today. He wasn’t dressed.

“Nice robe,” Kylo said, reaching out to touch Armitage’s lapel just where it lay over his collarbone, rubbing the sleek material between his fingers.

“It’s a dressing gown,” Armitage said automatically.

“Dressing gown,” Kylo repeated, his eyes dropping to the vee of skin exposed by the closure of the garment.

“Yes.” Armitage swallowed. Part of him wanted to flee up the curved staircase in shame and lock himself in his oak-and-leather filled office. Another part of him wanted Kylo to tug at his lapel, to pull the dressing gown open.

“Your assistant there said you were waiting for my ‘favorable response’,” Kylo said.

“Yes.” Armitage wondered if Kylo could feel his heart pounding against his knuckles.

“Well,” Kylo said. “My response is that I liked it. A lot.”

Now Armitage’s face was going hot. “Oh?” he asked as casually as possible.

“I have a theory, though,” Kylo continued, letting his fingers trail down Armitage’s lapel, stopping when they reached the fabric belt of the gown.

“What’s that?” Armitage could barely breathe.

“I bet I’ll like the muse even better.”

~

“You never replied to my text,” Kylo murmured as he mouthed over Armitage’s stomach, flat and soft, just like in the painting.

“I did reply,” Armitage said archly. He was breathless, so the admonishment probably lacked the severity he was going for.

It was so fun to wind him up.

“Three months later,” Kylo reminded him as he skimmed his thumbs along the edges of Armitage’s ribcage, just visible beneath the pale expanse of skin. He was pretty sure his hands could span Armitage’s waist, but he hadn’t tried it yet; for now, he was content to hold him in place, hands on his sides beneath the now-open dressing gown, as he investigated the accuracy of the portrait. He’d already confirmed Armitage’s nipples were just as advertised; the sweet little nubs were now red and tight from being sucked and pinched. “All this time, I thought you weren’t interested.”

Armitage shuddered as Kylo licked a stripe up his belly. “Well, now you know better,” he said, squirming a bit.

“Uh huh,” Kylo said. “Still. You made me wait a real long time. Isn’t that rude?” He sucked at a spot just beside Armitage’s belly button, pulling the soft skin into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue and teeth.

Armitage let out a gasp, half pleasured and half indignant. “You never indicated a timeframe.”

Letting go before leaving a mark, Kylo looked up Armitage’s body to his beautifully flushed face, framed by red hair that was slightly damp with sweat, but not disheveled. Yet. “Usually, though, if you get that kind of text, you answer right away. Right?”

“I have never received such a text before in my entire life,” Armitage said, crossing his arms.

“Ah, ah,” Kylo said, taking Armitage’s wrists in his hands. “I want to see you.” He pulled Armitage’s arms apart again, moved his wrists to either side of his head to bare his chest fully, and held him down like that, exposed. As Armitage twitched and blushed beneath him, Kylo raked his eyes back down his body, over his lightly freckled shoulders, his slim chest, his soft tummy, and the red curls disappearing into the part of the robe that Kylo hadn’t opened yet. “So far, you’re just like your picture,” he said.

“Of course,” Armitage huffed. Despite his tone, he looked pleased. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’m just impressed,” Kylo assured him. “But I’m also thinking about how I could change that.”

Armitage’s eyes widened a bit. He licked his lips. “What do you mean?” he asked, and it was clear he was trying to sound bold.

Kylo chuckled. “In the painting, you look so fancy. Like you’re to be looked at, but not touched. You want to be touched, though, don’t you?”

Armitage bit his lip. His cheeks, impossibly, went even pinker. All those months ago in the restaurant, and then again today with the painting, he’d been luring Kylo in...but he didn’t seem to know what to do with him now that he had him.

That suited Kylo fine, because Kylo had plenty of ideas.

“You want to be touched,” Kylo repeated. “And maybe you want to _know_ you’ve been touched, even hours later.” He lowered his face to the juncture of Armitage’s neck and shoulder, laid a chaste kiss there, gently sucked at the skin, and then suddenly bit down.

Armitage yelped, his body jerking beneath Kylo’s weight. But he didn’t complain; the only thing coming out of his mouth was a whine as Kylo took his time worrying at his soft flesh. When Kylo finally pulled back, kissing Armitage’s jaw but avoiding his lips, a bright purple bruise marked where he’d been.

Armitage was breathing more heavily now, and his eyes had gone heavy lidded. “Liked that, did you?” Kylo murmured, keeping his face close enough that he could feel Armitage’s hot breath against his mouth. “Want more?” Armitage’s cheek twitched; he looked rebellious and desirous at the same time. “You like being in charge,” Kylo guessed, and Armitage’s lips compressed into a thin line. “Well, tell me what you want, then. Do you want me to mark you again?”

Seemingly fighting with himself, Armitage shifted under Kylo, looking away and frowning. Kylo waited. Finally, when it apparently became clear to Armitage that Kylo wasn’t going to do or say anything else without a response, Armitage looked back up at him, eyes fierce, and said, “Yes.”

Kylo was tempted to push, to refuse to continue until Armitage said _please_ , but he was more interested in tasting him again. So, not breaking eye contact, Kylo let go of Armitage’s wrists and crawled back down his body. This time, when he sucked the soft skin of Armitage’s belly into his mouth, he wasn’t gentle.

Armitage took a shuddering breath and let it out in a whimper, squirming a bit under Kylo’s mouth. When Kylo withdrew from the new purple blotch he’d made, Armitage stared at it. “That’s what you did to me here?” he asked, slim fingers brushing against his neck.

“Mmm hmm,” Kylo confirmed.

“Give me another one,” Armitage commanded breathlessly.

“Oh, I will.” Kylo shifted from hands and knees to lying partially over Armitage, pressing Armitage’s lower half into the bed with his body weight. Armitage’s slim legs were now trapped beneath one of his own, and he could also now feel what was almost certainly Armitage’s cock pressing insistently against his armpit. Kylo shifted against it, and just as Armitage let out a choked groan, he lowered his mouth to a patch of skin at the side of Armitage’s waist.

Armitage must have been ticklish there, because his stomach muscles spasmed and he let out a gasp of a laugh—but Kylo kept going, biting and sucking as Armitage’s belly trembled beneath his cheek. He didn’t stop until the flesh bloomed for him.

“Another,” Armitage breathed, his eyes roving back and forth between the two marks.

Kylo grinned and shifted slightly higher, trapping Armitage’s cock under his chest as he closed his mouth around Armitage’s left nipple. He’d already established that Armitage was sensitive here; now he would overwhelm him, see how far he could push his pleasure-pain tolerance.

Armitage let out a wail as Kylo’s teeth clamped down on the skin around his nipple. Kylo sucked the little pink nub into his mouth and bit even harder, determined to leave a halo of purple around it. Every time he paused to check his work he flicked his tongue over the hardened peak, sending a jolt through Armitage’s body and forcing a whine from between his pretty lips. And every time, Armitage arched his back, pushing his chest back toward Kylo’s mouth.

When he was finally satisfied with the mark he’d made, Kylo turned his attention to the other nipple. Rather than make it match, Kylo decided to bruise the barely-there meat of Armitage’s pectoral instead, below and to the right of the nub. From there, Kylo moved to Armitage’s shoulder, and then to a higher point on his neck. Then it was back down to Armitage’s belly, below the belly button now, right above the curly red hair peeking out from the robe. Armitage’s stomach muscles twitched, and one of Armitage’s hands came down into Kylo’s hair, and Kylo decided to allow it because the gentle massage of his fingers felt nice.

“Now,” Kylo said when he was finished, “let’s see what you’ve got under here.” The flowing bedsheets depicted in the painting had given Kylo a tease of Armitage’s slim thighs but had denied him a look at Armitage’s cock, and as the portrait showed him from the front, Armitage’s ass hadn’t been visible at all.

Kylo untied the knot in the dressing gown’s belt, trying not to be too eager. 

~

Panting, Kylo settled back on his haunches and surveyed his handwork. Before him, Armitage lay boneless across the white silk sheets, thoroughly debauched. Bites and bruises stood out against his pale skin. His mussed, sweaty hair was fanned out around his head like a messy halo. Dried drool coated his parted lips and trailed down his chin. One leg was bent, propped up off the bed by his foot, offering an unobstructed view of his bright red ass and puffy, come-filled hole. His own come had spilled across his stomach, and his cock lay pink and shining and spent against his belly.

[ ](https://i.imgur.com/qjPgYsA.png)

“You know,” Kylo said, tracing one of the bite marks on Armitage’s inner thigh with his fingertips, “that painting was something else. But _this_ is a _masterpiece_.”

“I’m sure you’re very proud of yourself,” Armitage said, eyes half closed, voice rough through his abused throat. There was no heat in the barb, and the corners of his lips twitched upward as he surveyed Kylo through golden eyelashes.

Based on how he’d been back in the restaurant three months ago and on things his mousy assistant had said this morning, Armitage was a fussy, self-important thing, bossy and strong-willed and sardonic. That was, of course, charming in and of itself; it made it all the more satisfying for Kylo to fluster him. But beneath Kylo’s hands and mouth, Armitage had shown another side entirely: soft, shy, vulnerable, pliant.

Kylo felt a rush of affection for this strange, beautiful man. He crawled back over Armitage, settled on top of him, and kissed his mouth for the first time. “You are too,” he accused mildly, nuzzling his nose against Armitage’s. “You know you’re the perfect canvas, don’t you?”

“Mm,” Armitage said noncommittally. His cheeks were turning a pretty shade of pink as he wound his fingers through Kylo’s hair and tugged his face back down for another kiss.

The kiss grew sloppy, slow, the both of them exhausted. Then they must have fallen asleep, because the next thing Kylo knew he was on his back, waking up to the feeling of gentle hands on his naked body. First they lightly massaged his shoulders, then they stroked down his arms, and now they were palming his chest. It felt nice. Kylo opened his eyes with a yawn and a smile.

Armitage was leaning over him as he squeezed Kylo’s pectorals. There was a serious look on his face. “You should know something,” he said softly, not looking Kylo in the eye. “Regardless of what has occurred here, and no matter what else happens, you’re not taking Finalizer away from me, Kylo Ren.”

“What?” Kylo’s sleepy brain took a little longer to piece things together than he would have liked. It had been some time since he’d thought about Finalizer, honestly. Work had been rough the past few months— “Wait,” he said, blinking. “ _You’re_ the other owner?”

Armitage’s hands stilled. He met Kylo’s eyes, face unreadable. “You can’t tell me you didn’t know.”

“I just thought you were hot! _Are_ hot,” Kylo corrected himself hastily. “ _Fucking_ hot,” he added.

“So you’re saying this _hasn’t_ all been a ruse to distract me, to take what I’ve rightfully earned?”

“Uh, no,” Kylo said, scratching his hip. “I didn’t even know your name until this morning.”

Armitage was silent. At first he looked emotionless. Then he looked angry. Then he looked mildly confused. Then he looked angry again.

Finally Kylo couldn’t stand it anymore. He sat up, took Armitage’s face in his hands, and kissed him.

For two long, terrifying seconds, Armitage’s mouth slack beneath his, Kylo thought he’d done the wrong thing. Then Armitage was kissing back—clutching at Kylo’s shoulders—swinging a leg over to straddle Kylo’s lap—wrapping his arms around Kylo’s neck. Kylo groaned as they ground against each other, cocks pressed together between their bodies. He slid his hands down to palm and squeeze Armitage’s sweet, round ass, pulling Armitage even tighter against him.

It wasn’t long before they were both fully hard. Kylo had forgotten all about Finalizer, about Snoke, about any of it. All he wanted was Armitage: his hands, his mouth, his ass, his cock, his soft belly and sharp green eyes, his easily marked skin. He pulled back from the kiss just enough to gasp out, “I’ll give you anything you want. Anything.”

Panting, Armitage gave him a wide smile, full of teeth. He almost looked feral; Kylo felt a thrill shudder down his spine to his core. Was this how Armitage had felt when Kylo first set upon him?

“Yes,” Armitage said, and Kylo’s cock twitched at the predatory growl in his voice, “you will.”

**Author's Note:**

> I commissioned the gorgeous pieces of art in this piece from [katherine 1753](https://twitter.com/katherine1753) and [Pangaea Starseed](https://twitter.com/StarseedComic). Thank you!!


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